


Training Accidents

by Anarhichas



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fisting, M/M, Medical, Non-Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 06:26:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarhichas/pseuds/Anarhichas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Don’t be a baby,’ David said, mouth working before he could stop himself. He placed his hand back on the flat muscle of Armin’s upper thighs. ‘I need to examine you.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training Accidents

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: self-lubrication, humiliation.
> 
> Concrit is welcome, as always, thank you for reading!

The room was warm and a little stuffy despite it still being spring. The new castle headquarters were massive, and this together with the fact that there hadn’t been an expedition in a while, the victims of the last one having long since died or moved out, meant that David and his latest patient were entirely alone. The boy, a soft, young looking soldier with straw coloured hair and legs short enough that his feet didn’t touch the ground as he sat on the edge of a bed, cradled his arm to his chest. His sleeve had been rolled up, exposing a long scrape up the side of the forearm, only barely warranting treatment. A small training injury. Still, it was something to do in the otherwise boring days, and an injury bound to heal well was always something a doctor liked to see.

David had always admired the Scouting Corps, more than he had the other factions of the military. Since childhood fighting for them had been a dream of – going outside the walls, fighting titans! Survive through sheer skill and returning home victorious! Saving his teammates from the rather literal jaws of defeat! It was just that when signing up had happened he’d always been somewhere else, or busy, and he’d sign up next time of course he would. Life continued, the years passed, and somehow David ended up a doctor instead.

Of course, then Wall Maria fell and with such a conscription push in the aftermath he found his way to the Scouting Corps all the same.

Which meant that middle age crept up on him while he looked on and felt his gut clench with envy at the tales his patients told him. Two kills, this time! And the titans had been so close, just a hair’s breadth away. David stitched them up, reset their bones, amputated limbs, tended to infection, and occasionally administered the lethal dose to those too far gone for anything other than an easy way out. It wasn’t bad, truth be told, especially now he’d had a more intimate view of the survival rate statistics.

David got to work. The boy, introducing himself as Armin Arlert, sat a little nervously, tense and looking away as if embarrassed about something. That wasn’t unusual in itself. Few soldiers liked ending up in the infirmary, even less for training accidents. Still, the air in the room seemed to be getting thicker, noticeable as David got a bowl of water and antiseptic, picking out the bits of dirt and twig from the wound with a pair of tweezers. It stuck on the tongue, a scent he couldn’t place but knew distinctly. Distracted, David accidentally poked into the red raw flesh of Armin’s wound, and Armin hissed loudly. David blinked and apologised. It wasn’t like his hand to slip. But the air was definitely carrying something, a taste that felt like it was driving right up into his skull.

Had someone left dirty laundry in the room? But while it was undeniably an organic taste it wasn’t a bad one. Nothing like the stink of decay.

The tweezers slipped again. David realised that his hands were sweating. He stared at the wound, now more or less cleaned and shining with tissue fluid. What next? He could barely think.

Armin shifted, the motion small and tight. His face was flushed, David saw. Then he snapped back into professionalism and went to get the bandages, wrapping Armin up with hands a significant deal more clumsy then their usual state. It was if he’d been drinking, though he knew he hadn’t.

‘Are you,’ David hesitated as he stood away, thinking in the back of his mind that such an easy job had taken far too long, but unable to concentrate on the fact. ‘Is there anything else you want to ask me?’

It was a question he usually asked patients with illnesses he couldn’t name, or those he remembered as too proud to ask for help on the more embarrassing issues. But he suddenly knew that he didn’t want Armin out of the room. Not just yet. He needed to know what the smell was first, that smell that itched in his lungs and made his fingers want to grasp something undefined.

Armin hesitated. He was still sitting, legs tight together, back straight. He looked so small, David’s mind supplied from nowhere. Never mind that he was a trained soldier. He looked so fragile. Breakable.

David’s mouth was dry. With a jolt he realised that somewhere along the line he’d grown half hard.

‘No,’ Armin muttered, looking away again, and got up from the bed stiff legged. David watched him as he left, noticing something.

‘Hold on,’ he said, blurted without thinking. There was a dark patch on the seat of Armin’s trousers, a small wet stain just in the crease. ‘You have–’

Armin straightened, as fast as if the words had been long needles. He whirled so that his back was to the wall, hiding the wet patch. His face was burning a bright red with miserable embarrassment.

‘It’s nothing,’ he stuttered.

David gathered his words, the beginning of an idea coming to him, on the tip of his tongue but not quite there yet. ‘Rectal discharge is not nothing,’ he said, and even speaking through the thick taste in the air was like watching meat being cooked but allowed none of it. ‘You’ll need to let me have a look, in case it’s something serious.’

Armin looked in that moment like there was nothing he’d prefer more than breaking open the door and making a run for it. But he hesitated, and David took the opportunity to step back towards the bed, beckoning.

Which was how he found himself staring down at a boy not even old enough to have finished puberty, whose trousers and underwear were folded gracelessly on the side table, and who was lying on his stomach with a couple of pillows wedged under his hips, tilting them up. His legs bent in a wide angle, spread so that his knees poked over the sides of the bed, and his arse was pushed into the air.

Unusual but not unheard of. Soldiers got all sorts of injuries, especially the younger ones. What was new was that David’s cock had decided that a lifetime of being not into men, let alone boys, was now irrelevant. He could feel himself strain in the confines of his trousers.

The mysterious wet patch, however, had been undeniably explained. Armin was leaking a viscous clear fluid from his arse, in small quantities but quantities none the less. David reached out to touch it, press his finger into the wetness, then stopped himself inches above the skin. He knew what this was already: Armin was an omega. David had never seen one, or if he had he hadn’t known of their identity – their condition, and likewise the alpha condition, was hereditary, and those who had it existed almost solely within the upper classes of society. He should tell the boy, take away his hand, and let that be the end of it. It was none of his business.

But god, he’d never realised that omegas in heat had such an affect on normal men. The scent. How could he have not realised earlier?

Armin clearly didn’t realise what he was. And this would be the last time David would ever get to see one, examine one, and on heat to boot. David’s heart was beating a fat rhythm in his veins. What a missed opportunity it would be if he stopped now. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt the boy. He just wanted a look. There was nothing wrong with that.

David placed a single finger on the rim of Armin’s arsehole, letting it slide down and over. Armin flinched at the contact but didn’t move away. The fluid felt slick, like that from a woman. His skin flushed red, heated, and David would have called it infected had he not known better.

He could barely think of anything else as he let his index finger slip into Armin, so easy with the fluid. Armin made a small noise in his throat and David felt his body shiver. Insertion like this would be next to impossible on a man without having added some sort of external lubrication, but Armin’s body practically sucked him in. David pressed in further, letting his fingertip explore the heat and tightness. When he withdrew his finger glistened wet with the slick, clean of any shit that should have existed.

He didn’t think as he reinserted the finger, this time with the middle one also. He needed to see more. How easy would it be to fuck Armin while he was like this? David bit his lip hard, clenching his free hand into a fist as he moved his fingers in and out, slowly. His cock throbbed.

Armin’s hips jerked without warning, a sharp motion into the pillows under him that withdrew David’s fingers from him. He was panting, David realised, a ragged sound.

‘Please stop,’ Armin said, voice small and pitched high, brittle. His hands were grasping the bed sheets. ‘I can’t – I – please, stop.’

‘Don’t be a baby,’ David said, mouth working before he could stop himself. He placed his hand back on the flat muscle of Armin’s upper thighs. ‘I need to examine you.’

Without warning he pushed his fingers back in, as far as they’d go, until his knuckle was pressed up against the hot flesh of Armin’s arse. His hands were thin, bony, but Armin was small and the ring of muscle stretched visibly around David’s fingers. David watched it avidly as it squeezed around him pulling in and out, slow and careful. He needed to see it stretch more, to shiver and strain.

He crooked his fingers as he inserted a third, pressing them together at the tip. There was a definite pressure as he pushed in, knuckle deep, that hadn’t been there before. Even so there was enough give that he could still spread his fingers a little way, stretch out Armin as he continued to thrust slowly with his hand. The fluid Armin was producing coated his fingers, making wet sucking noises as he moved.

His mouth was full of saliva. David swallowed. Armin’s pants had descended into messy little whines that hitched with the thrusts. _Fuck_ , David thought, as he pressed his free hand down on Armin’s lower back where his shirt had ridden up, holding him still and forcing his spine to arch. _He sounds like a fucking whore._

Three fingers together were larger than even a pretty big cock, but despite Armin’s size and lack of preparation he could fit them in easily. Were all omegas able to stretch like this? There’d be no way a boy would be able to do this otherwise, surely.

David paused, looking at his hand pressed half into a boy’s arse with a sudden and keen sense of surrealism. A boy who couldn’t be much older than mid-teens. Younger than his own little niece. A boy who was very clearly trying to twist away, whose face pressed into the mattress didn’t disguise the sobbing of his breath.

He shouldn’t be doing this, David thought. The concept appeared in his mind unexpectedly, but abstractedly. His cock throbbed in his underwear and the stink of the boy’s fluid still filled up his head like hard alcohol.

No, it was fine. Besides, it wasn’t harming anyone. Omegas were built for this sort of thing.

David pulled out his hand then pushed it back in again, this time with all four fingers. How far could he reach inside? There had to be a gland somewhere to produce all this lubrication. And omegas must have a side channel leading to the womb, but where? Could he reach it?

It was wrong and David stopped again, an almost unbearable squeeze tightening around the top of his hand, past the knuckles, the limit of insertion before his thumb got in the way. But Armin was shaking, clutching the bedframe with his thighs tight enough it creaked, even as his hips had started to jerk.

‘Please,’ he whined. ‘Please stop, please–’

Except, David realised with a jolt like lightning down his spine to his cock, Armin wasn’t trying to pull away. He was trying to push onto his hand.

David only just managed to stop himself groaning aloud at the sight. He leant his own hips against the bed, trying to press his erection into control against the hard frame. Armin was fucking himself on his hand. He wanted it. He was a fucking omega, of course he’d want it.

David clenched his fingers into a half-fist, forcing Armin to stretch just that bit further. Armin gasped wetly as he did so, breaking his string of begging. His hips didn’t stop their little thrusts. God. Fuck. The sight of his pale little arse, flushed red, sticking in the air – David gritted his teeth. He wanted to slap it, smack it until the boy cried like a bitch in heat. He wanted to pin him down and fuck him so hard he squealed, fill him up with come until he bloated fat with it.

The fluid squeezed down David’s palm with a squelching noise as he forced his hand in an out, fingertips to palm, an unsteady repetition. Alphas knotted, didn’t they? He didn’t really know what that meant, at least not exactly, but Armin hadn’t shown any signs that he couldn’t fit in just a bit more. Not yet, anyway. He was tiny but his arse felt so greedy as it swallowed up his hand, sucking it into the heat and tightness inside, squeezing muscle around his fingers. He had to be able to fit more. And if he couldn’t – well, only one way to find out.

David’s hand got stuck half way up the thumb. He pushed harder, even grasping Armin’s shoulder for leverage when the additional force just shoved him bodily forwards. He tried squeezing his hand together, more narrow, and rock in and out with small thrusts, but to no avail.

‘Stop!’ Armin said. His voice sounded like it was breaking. ‘Please stop it hurts, really hurts, stop, please–’

‘Be quiet!’ David let his hand slide out, wet and slick, and the inch of loss felt like being cheated. ‘It’s a standard procedure, now grow up.’

How could he do it? David wriggled his hand, rotating it at the wrist. Underneath him Armin had started to twist violently, clawing at the bedframe as his chest shook visibly with great heaving breaths. His moan turned into a sharp whine as David gave a little thrust, pushing in just that little bit further. Not much more to go. Just another centimetre or two.

Armin’s thighs were straining, trembling. One kicked out, a short spasm. David kept rotating his hand, pumping it in and out to work the slick up over his skin. Fuck, he didn’t think he’d ever been this hard before.

‘Stop,’ Armin whined, more of a drawn out stutter than any proper word. ‘Please.’

David didn’t bother answering. His hand had finally slipped in entirely, with Armin clenching around his wrist. Heart beating so hard it was almost painful, David pumped his fist within Armin. He could move more freely now, though still so hot and tight, incredibly so, even with the natural lubrication slipping between his fingers, around his wrist. He’d – he’d wanted to find the gland and passage to the womb, but with his own hand engulfed and Armin squirming and crying, he could barely think. It looked – god, like nothing he’d seen before. To see the boy impaled, stretched skin red and shining with fluids leaking from his own arse. Trying to fuck himself even as he begged and whined for it to stop.

David came in his trousers, closing his eyes as the orgasm raced through his body, setting it alight. He almost staggered as it finished, grasping at the bed to steady himself, and breathed open mouthed to try and calm his racing heart. He felt light headed, swept up in a rush, euphoria cradling his skull. He hadn’t ever achieved orgasm without physical stimulation before.

Armin had fallen still, save for his shivering, lying there at the end of David’s fist. When David started to withdraw Armin twitched, forcing his body forwards to pull away also, and when the tightness of his arse stopped them he sobbed out wordless noises.

Amid the afterglow David became aware that he hadn’t locked the door. There was horror in that thought but still – the fuzziness about his head and the smell, so damn thick in his mouth, seemed to block most of it. He pulled his hand back quickly, brutally, and the sound Armin made would have been a scream had it not been so strangled, broken, on the wrong end of a ragged breath.

David turned. His hand was wet, so wet it practically dripped. And more importantly his orgasm had left its mark on the front of his trousers. He thought vaguely that he should feel ashamed, but couldn’t manage it.

Washing his hands in a bowl of water, then holding the towel in front of him to hide his crotch, David turned back to Armin. Something in his chest stuttered to see the boy curled at the head of the bed, clutching the blanket around his legs and waist as he cringed and averted his wet eyes, but it still couldn’t get through the cloud in his head.

‘Well that was unpleasant, wasn’t it?’ he said, and ignored the tears with the practice of a doctor long used to breaking bad news. His voice was dry, rough, but didn’t think Armin would notice. ‘Rather disgusting.’

Armin didn’t reply. He didn’t look like he could: his ribs heaved with small, unsteady breath. His trembling hands gripped the blanket hard enough it looked like he was trying to rip the thing in two. Looking down at his lap he hid his crumpled and tear-wet skin behind the tangled curtain of his hair.

‘I think,’ David continued, not knowing what he was saying but letting his mouth speak anyway, ‘you’ll need to stay here overnight at least, on the off chance it’s contagious. I’ll have to do some reading up on your condition, and tomorrow I’ll give you another examination.’

He watched Armin flinch, a visible shudder across his whole body. The dread feeling welled up at the sight, but David could still taste that scent on the air, thick enough to blind, and couldn’t stop.

 


End file.
